Several years ago I spent a quiet night in Donovan’s Sports Bar on 3rd Road. The owner was sitting alone and I decided to join Steve for an Easter cheeseburger. We discussed my upcoming trip to the USA and he said, “It’s been three and half years since I was last in New York.”
“Over two for me.” And I had been putting off this trip for ten months at least.
“I don’t think I could live there anymore.” He sipped at his whiskey and soda, then added, “I see the faces of people on TV and they don’t look human, not to mention that you can’t say anything about anything to anyone without them getting offended.”
Steve’s brother walked into the restaurant with a friend from Texas and they argued with Steve’s assessment of America’s losing its title as the Land of the Free.
“You can say what you want as long as you don’t offend anyone.” Steve’s brother lives in Dallas. People are real churchy in that Texan metropolis. We joked about Texas and then terrorists. I thought we were free and asked, “What has 6000 feet and is two inches tall?”
Neither had the answer.
“The World Trade Tower.”
“Not funny.” Steve’s brother frowned with patriotic disapproval.
“Okay.” I knew a few more WTC jokes, but decided to keep them under cover for a few years. Later Steve said, “Americans don’t find that joke funny.”
“I noticed.”
“But what the hell, fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.”
One day we’re going to laugh again only it wasn’t going to be this year.